


We outgrow love like other things.

by Kaesteranya



Category: Gintama
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesteranya/pseuds/Kaesteranya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things, you just can't avoid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We outgrow love like other things.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a quick reread through the works of my all-time favorite dojinshi artist for this pairing – one of the only ones who do Gintoki and Hijikata well, in my opinion. The title, by the way, is taken from the 31 Days theme for October 8, 2010.

  
“Eat your goddamned dango and get to work already.”

“You’re a slave driver, Hijikata-san. I’ve still got fifteen minutes to kill before my break ends.”

“…Your watch is fifteen minutes late.”

“Maybe yours is just fifteen minutes earl – oh, _danna_ is around.”

And it seems as though that is the way they always run into each other: him on patrol, sometimes with an Okita Sougo in his hair; Sakata Gintoki suddenly appearing, either working some odd job or another or just happening to be wherever they are at that moment.

It’s an odd job this time. At least the useless perm’s doing something productive.

(That doesn’t make him any less irritated.)

“Huh…? _Ara_. If it isn’t Edo’s most useless policemen.”

“I’m hurt, _danna_. I thought you loved us.”

“Like I love herpes, yeah.”

Two hours to lunch and he’s already had fifteen cigarettes since he woke up, but he’s padding himself down, quick and annoyed, fishing his pack out for another one. Okita, the brat: he’s got one arm draped over his shoulders. He’d consider removing it from his person immediately, were he not so occupied with finding his damned lighter.

As for Sakata Gintoki, he’s standing just outside of the flower shop he stepped out of, wearing an apron over his usual clothes and a bandanna to keep his hair back, eyeing them in the usual way: lazy eyed, with his arms crossed and his lips pursed and an air of boredom that was so perfect it might have been staged.

“Oi, oi, oi, get a move on. You’re scaring the customers.”

“I don’t see any customers.”

“That’s because they’ve already run away.” The gesture Gintoki makes at that moment reminds Hijikata of the way old folks try to shoo off strays from their backyards. “Now beat it, brat.”

“But we want to spend the rest of our break here. Right, Hijikata-san?”

Okita’s got that look in his eyes and twist to his smile, and for one panicked second he wonders if the smug little shit actually knows something or if he’s just pulling his leg again. He doesn’t plan on sticking around long enough to confirm.

“You’re committing _seppuku_ for me when you get back to base, Sougo.”

There must have been a whine in response, or maybe a witty comeback. Hijikata couldn’t tell; he was walking away too fast.

* * *

“You’re a pretty hard worker.”

It’s been long enough for Hijikata to think that maybe his day wasn’t going to be so fucked up, but all it takes is the sound of that voice to make him see red. He doesn’t answer, just jams his hands into his pockets and quickens his pace.

“Have you been out the whole day? It sure looks like it, from where I’m coming from.”

There’s no need to confirm if he’s being followed; he can hear the one-two-one-two of Sakata Gintoki’s boots hitting the pavement exactly ten steps behind him. He wants another motherfucking cigarette, but he ran out ten minutes ago and they’ve just walked past the last convenient store for a couple of blocks. No chance in hell he’s backing up and letting that idiot catch up to him.

“By the way, tell that brat to stop wasting his time and quit stalking me. It’s cramping up my style.”

He could tell Gintoki that he isn’t Sougo’s babysitter and damn it he ought to tell the little dick himself, but that would mean talking which means turning around which means acknowledging the fact that he’s there in the first place. So he keeps walking – or at least, that was the plan.

How he had failed to notice the fact that Gintoki had managed to get close enough to end up _right behind him_ and drag him off the street, he didn’t know.

“…the hell’s your problem, _yoruzuya_?!”

“Language, Hijikata-kun.”

The words and the smile seem to betray the fact that Gintoki’s got him against the side of a shop, framing his head on either side with his arms and leaning in. There’s too much presence and not nearly enough space all of a sudden, and it’s impossible, it seems, to notice anything but the man’s eyes, and a glimpse of his skin beneath the kimono, the black shirt.

“You were pretty cold earlier. Was it because Okita-kun was around?”

Those words are spoken off to the side and right over his neck, against that spot where it connects to his ear and the fringe of his hair. He aims a left hook towards Gintoki’s jaw. His fist doesn’t get far; Gintoki snags him by the wrist and presses closer, moving his knee between Hijikata’s legs. The air has heated up from the mix of their breaths between their faces.

It should be easy to recall exactly why he despises Gintoki. The man’s a freeloader from Kabuki-cho with two punks at his beck and call, eking out a shoddy excuse for a living by running odd jobs around the city then blowing all of the cash he earns at pachinko bars. He looks like a mess, acts like a mess, and always sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong.

He can give a mind-blowing, infuriatingly good hand job, though, and he knows how to use his mouth in a way that no hot-blooded man should know how to use his mouth. He’s also taken to jumping Hijikata in random street corners/public bathrooms/tea houses and demonstrating said hand job and said mouth work on him.

Sometimes, they fuck; it’s never in a bed. Gintoki never explains himself; as it is, Hijikata doesn’t want to know. He’s hoping that every time will end up being their last.

“Don’t forget to zip up your fly.”

“I’m not fucking five.”

After the act, Hijikata turns and leaves. He doesn’t look back.

* * *

“Hey, Gin-san! What took you?”

“Found a stray in an alley. Bought him some milk.”

“Aw, that’s really nice of you – wait. Didn’t you help out a stray last week?”

“Got a weakness for them, I guess. It’s the eyes, you know. They always look lonely.”

“Eh…?”

“You’re paying, right? For drinks.”

“Oh, sure!”

Hasegawa and Gintoki spend the entire evening and the first hour of the morning side-by-side, knocking back sake bottle after sake bottle. Gintoki doesn’t talk as much as he usually does, but Hasegawa gets drunk before he remembers to ask.

Across the city, in a room deep within the Shinsengumi headquarters, Hijikata sets a bag of senbei beside the picture frame of a very beautiful and very dead girl. He sits down on the floor and lights up a cigarette as he stares at her smile.  



End file.
